Home is Where You Make It
by HecateA
Summary: In which Caesar gets stabbed thirty-three times and Reyna only gets twenty-one. Oneshot. Dedicated to wombat-of-awesomeness.


**So this casually came up in a conversation with wombat-of-awesomeness. She rambled out the plot, I wrote it down for her because I think it's heartbreaking and fabulous, and I hope you enjoy this too. Please ignore the fact that everyone has a different number for the amount of times Caesar was stabbed and the fact that this could be romance or it could be friendship and I don't even know how I wrote this. ****  
**

**Disclaimer: Me no own characters, and as above mentioned nor do I own the plot.**

**Dedication: wombat-of-awesomeness who never fails to be interesting and thoughtful and brilliant.**

* * *

**Home is Where You Make It**

Reyna was backed up against one of the windows of the penthouse, her neck pressed on the cold glass.

"You traitorous…" Octavian let it hang, allowing every legionnaire in the loft to fill in the silence with his or her favourite word of choice. "Plotting against the legion with the Greeks- as if one praetor's betrayal wasn't enough!" He shrieked.

"Jason Grace did not betray Rome," Reyna said. "And I would be betraying Rome if I let you carry on with this plan, Octavian."

"Look at you, thinking you know exactly how Rome works and what Rome wants." Octavian said. "That's very typical of a _tyrant." _

"It's Rome's _essence _Octavian, not what it wants. Not right now, anyway." Reyna said.

"Rome's essence is pride and patriotism!" Octavian howled.

"Rome's essence is justice and advancement and the good of the people," Reyna said. "Not prideful _slaughter_."

"Justice, you say?" Octavian said. He drew a knife. Reyna heard the sounds of several other blades sliding out of their scabbards all around her. A semi-circle was forming around her. She had a sword of her own, but there was no way she could be quick or enduring or skilled enough to get herself out of this. She could break the glass behind her- then she'd fall and most likely die. It would certainly smoke the Romans out of their present lair…

"No problem," Octavian said as several demigods and legacies from his cohort approached. "I know justice. I can execute it too. I can execute _you._"

The first knife Reyna felt was in her side, but the pain spread very fast.

"Poison," she managed to say though her throat was clenching very quickly.

"Yes," Octavian said. "It was meant for the Greeks, but it'll do for any other slime."

"You?" Reyna choked out.

This was it. She was dying. She drew her sword- not to fight, not to try and defend herself. Just to die with it in her hands. Aurum and Argentum were barking in the back of the room, but they were clearly being held back. Reyna heard the sound of chain cutters activating and off buttons being pressed.

Octavian's sword dug into her shoulder, just above her heart. Reyna's fingers nearly went slack but she kept them wrapped around the _gladius'_ hilt, clutching the window frame with her spare hand. She'd stay on her feet, she was determined to. Every time she'd faced death, she had promised herself that she'd finally fail to it on her feet.

"Let's see if you get to thirty-three times like Caesar." Octavian said, twisting his blade and pulling it out.

Spoiler alert: she was twelve short.

Jason Grace was eleven minutes short on his arrival.

The plan was easy. They'd left Nico to close the doors of death; with his power now boosted and locked into place (long story) by the sword of souls (longer stories) and Coach Hedge with his sacred bow (not a story you _want _to know) protecting him, he would be alright. He was manning the doors and its flow like a video game player- trying to control everything. Percy and Annabeth were still in Tartarus: Frank was at the doors waiting for them to come out and ready to give them the brief of what was going on and what they'd have to do next. Jason, Hazel, Leo and Piper had come back to New York in a rush after localising the Roman headquarters in a dream.

Swords were immediately pointing at him, but Hazel was clutching a white flag.

"Would you really?" Jason asked, the very second he thought his fatal swing would come.

No Roman was cowardly enough to kill a man under a white flag.

He heard someone gasp.

"Jason I think they would," Piper said.

Hazel looked terrified and Jason suddenly realised what –no, _who- _the limp figure in the back of the room was.

He walked forwards, his feet suddenly developing a mind of their own. He pushed the legionnaires who didn't part for him, and threw back some chairs to get to her.

He checked a pulse that he wasn't expecting to find. Her whole body was sticky and wet with blood at the same time. Her hair was curtained over her face, and her lips were thinly parted. Even in death, her fingers were wound around her sword hilt in a weak grip. Her purple cloak was still wrapped around her shoulders, but her armour straps were loose and it hung. The clothes she wore underneath were bloodstained and torn. The blood itself seemed to come from about twenty different spots. She'd been stabbed repeatedly, and by the size of the wounds and the way they were shaped Jason could tell that it'd been the doing of more than one person. Maybe every Roman in this room, for all he knew. Demons that had not existed –and should not exist- before were coming to life in Jason's whole person as he knelt next to the dead praetor dumped near the window. No- it wasn't a dead praetor. It was dead _Reyna. _

Jason got up and he did his best to stay level-headed and calm and _not _murderous.

"You _killed _Reyna." He said.

Octavian stepped forth.

"She wasn't our praetor anymore, she was a traitor." He said.

"First of all, Reyna was not a traitor; she was the only level-headed one in the whole fort." Jason snapped at Octavian. "And second, I'm not saying that you killed your praetor. I'm saying that you killed _Reyna. _Reyna- nobody could have been more dedicated to the fort and the camp and the people than Reyna."

"Shouldn't that be to the people to decide?" Octavian sneered.

Jason ignored him completely.

"You killed Reyna. I'm just going to say it again and let you think about it. You killed Reyna." Jason said. "You killed Reyna."

Piper standing at the door looked horrified, hands over her mouth. Leo looked shocked like his brain had just exploded. Hazel looked like a ghost. The Romans around the room started looking increasingly concerned and self-conscious. That wasn't worth anything _now. _

Jason knelt next to her again and pushed the hair out of her face, only to discover another wound in her neck.

Twenty-one stabs.

"You killed Reyna." Jason repeated. The words were both to weigh down on the Romans and to talk himself into believing it.

"If you weren't under a white flag you wouldn't be so daring and outspoken," Octavian spoke up.

"I will always defend those who cannot do it themselves, and I will always do what is best for the legion Octavian," Jason said getting up and walking towards the augur. Or was he praetor now? Jason didn't care: Octavian could have his villa too. "Even if that means stopping it in its tracks."

"Is that a threat? Your white flag can only take you so far," Octavian said.

"It's not a threat. I'm just saying." Jason said. He knelt next to Reyna and fixed the straps of her armour so it'd stay on, and slid an arm under her. Immediately his arms were wet and sticky.

He also picked up her sword. This time the legionnaires made a path for him, not wanting to get closer to the body he carried. Everyone at the door walked out before him, Hazel holding it open. She looked at Reyna as if one of her gods had fallen.

Jason froze in the threshold. Reyna's head was limp and bobbed against his shoulder.

"When I say that you killed Reyna," Jason said. "Just question what that says about your loyalty, your rationality and your honour. Question what that says about your morality as a person."

No legionnaire met his eyes, and if they did their gazes were faraway.

He trudged his way out, still carrying Reyna's body, not looking back at all.

Because they'd killed Reyna.

* * *

Wheelbarrows of ammo were being wheeled over to the multiple ballistas, and demigods were getting separated into different lines after consulting one of the counsellors holding a blueprint- a blueprint for defense manoeuvre Manticore (especially designed for intruders coming straight out of New York, that left the waterways vulnerable and concentrated on Half-Blood hill). People were constantly walking in and out of the tent set up by the children of Athena.

The medics were preparing the Big House to receive the injured. Cabins were being boarded and locked up. Heavy black smoke erupted from the forges as the children of Hephaestus created last minute backup weapons. Children of Apollo were dividing arrows amongst each other. Greek fire bombs were being buried along Half-blood Hill and there was talk of how to properly demonstrate a warning shot, and if a warning shot was really necessary.

The younger demigods, such as Harley, were hiding out in the Big House with Ella the harpy and Rachel Elizabeth Dare, who was rubbing her temples and trying to summon a prophecy. The nature spirits were taking refuge in the woods. Except for Tyson and a few seekers (notably Grover Underwood); they'd been told to stay out of it. This was demigod business, after all.

Peleus had been removed from his guard post at Thalia's tree; they were saving the dragon for either a swan song or a coup de grace. The Golden Fleece had been moved along the branches so that even though the sun shone and should reflect off, it would be invisible to the Romans. The land wouldn't die if the Greek resistance did.

Jason was part of this prep, but not as a leader or inspirational speaker. He was a piece on the battle map. For once, he felt totally out of authority, and without any control or grip on the world in front of him that was currently spiralling out of control. He felt helpless and defenceless and empty-handed. Maybe they all were, all along. Maybe the Romans just liked to kid themselves about that and put cloaks and medals on certain people.

He wasn't wearing any armour. He couldn't bear wearing his set of Roman armour -a second skin his whole life!- but he couldn't stand bronze. He'd asked the legionnaires to reflect on their characters- well what the hell did that say about him? He was the boy in the middle, always in the middle- between being a legionnaire and being a hero, between two sides of a conflict, between two fierce girls, between god and human... Never sure of where to turn, never taught how to find it out, ergo always getting both sides blown up or injured. He could lead, sure. He could motivate and rally and inspire people to follow him- but he couldn't figure himself out for the life of him.

He was in a weak moment to begin with, so everything around him and these questions in his head weren't helping his case much. He just hoped he'd be of some use to the camp.

Someone touched his elbow. "You look troubled, Jason."

He didn't even turn around to look at Piper. He didn't even answer right away.

"Look, I don't even know the people who were in that room and I can't… I can't believe they went and did that. I can't even imagine what it's like for you. I can barely help you figure things out and feel better then, can I? I can't even imagine what's going through your head."

Jason nodded slightly. "You're right." He said.

Piper came closer and squeezed his hand.

"Do you have any qualms about fighting your old home? Because if you want to sit it out and be neutral- it's okay, and I'm sure it's a good idea to have someone with a sword in the Big House with the little ones and…"

"No," Jason said dryly. "No, I don't have any problems with it."

His mind flashed back to when he'd stumbled across the property borders with Reyna's arm still draped over his neck and her sword in his other hand. After trekking through camp and pushing the curious campers back, he'd lied her down in a spare room in the Big House that Chiron had said, her blood staining that too. She was still there- they hadn't nearly had the time to perform a funeral, and there was still that faint hope to hold onto that she may be buried in Rome- though Jason wasn't sure she'd even _want _that anymore. He remembered having to explain to Chiron who she was and what sacrifice she'd made and what had happened to her.

"Besides," Jason told Piper. "It isn't home anymore."


End file.
